


Sahlo Folina

by Hopefully_not_a_shitty_ballerina



Series: Depression Drabbles [6]
Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Depression, Other, Pill popping, Self Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempts, Triggers, mentioned self harm, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 16:28:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18720775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hopefully_not_a_shitty_ballerina/pseuds/Hopefully_not_a_shitty_ballerina
Summary: Trigger warning! mentions of self harm and pill popping, if you can't handle them, please don't read it. Be safe guys, don't trigger yourselves. ||-//





	Sahlo Folina

It doesn’t hurt

 

It hurts when emotions overwhelm you, your chest swells up and it feels like you can’t breathe. When emotions over whelm Tyler, the only way for him to cope is for him to turn them off.

 

“Ty, are you alright?” Josh’s voice is high and concerned, but Tyler can’t find it in himself to care. He’s so far gone on endorphins that even if he tried, it’s be a lost cause to give a shit.

 

Zach looked on from the door, his brow furrowed as Tyler stared blankly at the ceiling, breathing slowly.

 

“Ty?” Zach called, when he got no response he quickly moved to the bed, ripping the covers away from Tyler’s body.

 

It doesn’t hurt, the way the sheets tug at his skin, and the way newly dried blood crinkles on his skin. His brother’s shriek of horror, followed by so many hazy footsteps, they tumble through his head. Sending a tight feeling to his chest.  

 

It doesn’t hurt, the way he is forced to sit, so many people are invading his personal space that he can’t think straight, his hand fly to the side of his face, pushing, shaking. Someone’s crying, and Tyler isn’t even sure that it isn’t him this time.

 

It doesn’t hurt, when Tyler fades from conciseness, vaguely aware of what is going on around him, and the people that speak in rushed voices. It doesn’t hurt as his brain sends him images, of hundreds of pills, all of the pills in his medicine cabinet to be exact. It doesn’t hurt when he thinks of swallowing them by the fistful. It doesn’t hurt when he thinks about his shiny razor blade, slicing through the skin over his ribs, opening little portals to another dimension on his chest.

 

It doesn’t hurt, when he thinks about lying on his bed under the blanket, feeling the warms radiating off of his skin, the blood oozing onto his sheets.

 

It doesn’t hurt when the paramedics push on his stomach, and their hands come away with so much red that it paints the room. It doesn’t hurt when they force liquid charcoal down his throat, intent on forcing the drugs out of him. He hopes the pills will stay, he doesn’t quite want them to leave, he’s not sure if he can handle another day on this planet.

 

It doesn’t hurt, when the charcoal works, and he loses hundreds of half-digested pills. It doesn’t hurt when they hold him down as he screams and fights them. They force his mouth open and pour more charcoal down his through as angry tears fall from his eyes.

 

It doesn’t hurt, when his eyes flutter open. He is left with chapped lips, and a tube up his nose. He can see his mother sleeping in a chair on beside him, but the room is dark, and he can’t really tell much else. His eyes close again, wondering daftly if he is dead or alive.

 

It doesn’t hurt, the way his mother hugs him, and his father can’t meet his eye. It doesn’t hurt, when Zach cried in front of him, large angry tears spilling from his older brother’s eyes as he angrily tells Tyler to never do it again. His sisters are silent, crying as they cling to him desperately.

 

It doesn’t hurt, when he does home and immediately knows things are different. His family hovers around him, desperate to pretend that everything is going to be okay, when Tyler knows that nothing will be.

 

it doesn’t hurt, when he talks to his priest, a man who has known him his whole life, and tells him he wishes he’d bled out. The look on his face is devastating, but it barely registers to Tyler’s dead eyes.

 

It doesn’t hurt, when his family and friends are worried. The beg and plead for him, asking for him to be saved. Tyler knows he doesn’t deserve to be saved, he’s forgotten his god is in his pursuit of freedom, and it has damaged him.

 

It doesn’t hurt when he breathes, acaridan like scars screech across his stomach, reminding him every time he looks in a mirror of what he failed to do.

 

He screams into the trees, begging, for an answer, or for someone who knows his pain. No one answers, and for once, it hurts worse than anything Tyler can imagine.

 

 


End file.
